


Summoning a Resolution

by mongoosling



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13253745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoosling/pseuds/mongoosling
Summary: It’s not such a bad thing to share a kiss on new year’s eve, but after all they've been through, Kuroh isn’t sure that it’s the wisest move.





	Summoning a Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy the mark of a new year with a little bit of Kuroshiro fluff. I would appreciate feedback, but really I just hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Set post series, mundane and sickeningly sweet, but kuroshiro brings out that side of me I guess...

The apartment was the same, from the holograms projected on the walls, to the modest arrangement of furniture. With the exception of a few nicknacks, and Kuroh assumed these were Neko’s amendments, it all remained the same.

Shiro was the same. The importance of this confirmation far outweighed anything else. The body was taller, his hair longer, his clothes more dignified, but there was the same kindness in his eyes, that foolish smile greeted him as it always had. It was always his concern as he stepped from the platform of the train, crossing onto the soil of Ashinaka High School. The routine had maintained all the same, every six months for the last four years. Despite the passing of time, the worry had been conditioned into him, just as Shiro’s bad habit of disappearing had been ingrained into him.

“I’ll be here when you return.”

This had been the condition, this had been the promise. Shiro had become Mr.German, and Neko became one of Kukuri’s classmates. The man, far older as it turned out, had encouraged Kuroh to find himself as well, convincing him that he was more than a guard dog, and that he deserved a life of his own. The slate was finished, and Kuroh was still young, there was still so much for him to learn.

The university had accepted him despite the holes in his formal education. Kuroh suspected this was mostly due to the strings pulled by the former blue king, Reisi Munakata. Despite his loss of supernatural power, his political sway remained quite favorable. It had been a done deal from that moment of his intervention, and Shiro had promised. He would be there when he returned.

It was four years passed that moment, and his nerves persisted.

Never so bad as that very first inevitable return. When Kuroh had stepped from the platform to see the two of them arm and arm, smiling as they greeted him, a wet sheen had formed over his dark blue eyes. He was quick to hide this, nestling his face in the crook between Shiro’s neck and shoulder, allowing the welcoming hug and the relief that flooded him. He hadn’t realized he’d been harboring such tension, but it was released as he finally accepted Shiro’s words. He really meant it this time around.

Kuroh’s anxiety had lessened slightly over the years, but habitual nerves warped his stomach everytime.

All for naught. Shiro had been waiting to greet him this time as well. He was pulled in for the traditional embrace, allowing himself to be held for one fleeting moment. It was a moment he looked forward to every year, sinking in to cherish the warmth, then pulling away to begin the craving all anew. It was his last year away, and his last year of suffocating anticipation.

“I missed you,” Shiro confessed as they sat on the couch that evening. He sat in the middle warm bodies on either side of him. Neko never strayed far from Shiro’s side, even after all these years. She was eyeing them now, suspicion clear in her stare, but Kuroh ignored this, favoring the glow of the moon outside their window instead.

“It’s been a while,” he conceded. It was the most sentiment he could allow if he were to find the strength to leave by the end of the holiday. Shiro always seemed satisfied with what he received. He’d smiled then, resting his head against Kuroh’s shoulder as Neko leaned on him from the other side. It was a warmth he always missed when away for the academic year. **  
**

“Not long now,” the older man had murmured into his shoulder. “You’re almost finished.”

Almost, and then he could settle into home forever.

New year passed with a shared bottle of champagne, and a pack of sparklers set off in the streets below the apartment. It had snowed in the city, and Kukuri, always present for the reunion, had dragged the unlikely trio outside. It was a walk to clear the remaining clouds of alcohol from their systems, to greet the new year with pure, unadulterated good will. She was the primary source of entertainment when midnight chimed, bouncing through the streets with Neko’s hand in hers, proclaiming her resolutions to the world, giggling wildly as they grew in grandeur with Neko’s assistance. The two men lingered in the back. Shiro was watching them scamper with a fond expression on his face, and Kuroh was watching him, lost in thought as that look melted over his face.

His smile had always been his warmest trait, no matter which face it claimed. Even as the snowflakes fluttered down, catching in his eyelashes, he could feel the warmth radiating off of Shiro. It was a magnetism he had yet to lose despite the destruction of the slates.

There were many silly traditions for every holiday, and for a moment an impulse of cheerful intimacy traipsed across Kuroh’s mind. He was silently chastising himself a second later, it was a silly idea, not worth entertaining. They were close, but over the years their relationship had evolved into something far more meaningful than _that_. Years of established repertoire were not worth wasting over one frivolous holiday whim. When Kuroh’s traitorous eyes zeroed back to the amused smile, he glowered up with the intent of focusing on some other part of Shiro’s face. It was the very moment he realized that Shiro’s attention had been diverted.

They stared at each other until Kuroh interrupted, “We should catch up.”

A flush had stained his cheeks as he bustled forth to catch up with the girls. Shiro followed in suit not long after. Kuroh remained blind to the momentary glaze of disappointment shrouding his face.

It was hours later that Shiro finally caught up to Kuroh, meeting him out on the balcony of their apartment. Kukuri had returned to her own home at last, and Neko had curled up on the bed inside.

The late hours were catching up with them in the end. Finally leveling them with a certain amount of privacy. It was Shiro and Kuroh, alone for the first time that year. Down the street some celebrations continued, it was a muffled remnant, the spirit of January falling upon them. Meanwhile, the night winded down.

“I’ve very proud of you,” Shiro broke the silence. He sided up beside Kuroh, the arm of his white coat pressed against the black of Kuroh’s sweater.

Kuroh blushed again, not fond of the attention, though undeniably pleased to hear it.

“It was your idea,” he shrugged, daring a glance in the other man’s direction. He was examining Kuroh without any pretense.

“All your efforts, Kuroh. Don’t let me steal away those accomplishments.”

At this, Kuroh found the courage to stare back. His own gaze was resolute as he examined the man he’d once called king. It was terrible irony that in this moment he seemed more regal than he’d ever been with the Sword of Damocles hovering above his head, an executioner's axe.

Inevitably, his eyes drew to that coaxing little smile.

“You can kiss me if you like.”

The invitation shattered the hanging silence, and Kuroh blinked in surprise. He was coloring again, for the third time that night, and spluttering like a fool.

“I’d like that,” Shiro added before any coherent response could form on Kuroh’s tongue.

He was closer all of a sudden, it was crafty maneuvering, Kuroh realized. A deliberate plot by this devious individual. At their closing proximity he could smell Shiro’s cologne, it was a foreign kind of scent, a scent unmistakably Shiro. At last Kuroh consented, rocking forward, the flutter of hooded eyelids was the last he saw as the distance was finally closed.

Shiro’s lips were soft on his, acting as a tasteful invitation to move him closer. Kuroh sank. His arms threaded between the lapels of Shiro’s coat. Their lips molded together in a soft repetition, it was an exciting introduction to the taste of that smile. Even as the kiss broke apart they remained more close than apart, breathing shared air, their foreheads pressed together. Kuroh and Shiro, black and white in the moonlight.

“I can’t wait to come home. To be with you,” Kuroh admitted. He was aching for another kiss, now that the privilege had been granted to him, he was certain he would drive himself insane waiting for the perfect moment to try again.

His arms wrapped tighter around Shiro’s middle. Shiro’s hands rested low on his hips, fingers looping through the belt loops of his jeans. He dipped to press one more kiss to the top of Kuroh’s head. One final sentiment muttered into the strands of his fine black hair as they held each other in the night.

“Happy new year, _mein Freund_.”


End file.
